


absolute limit switch

by luxeme



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Ambiguous Relationships, F/F, Volleyball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29378172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxeme/pseuds/luxeme
Summary: She remembers when she first heard of Hyejoo: how she’d taken her middle school to the province quarterfinal despite only having started playing volleyball in her second year. All uncanny sense and innate talent. Remembers when she joined their high school, almost a year ago, now; her first day on the team, blocking nearly every shot their spikers threw at her after only an hour of getting to know how they played.
Relationships: Jeon Heejin/Son Hyejoo | Olivia Hye
Comments: 3
Kudos: 61
Collections: backup dancers ficmix exchange





	absolute limit switch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dimsum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimsum/gifts).
  * Inspired by [second](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25391212) by [fenying](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenying/pseuds/fenying). 



> hui!! second absolutely decked me to the floor so the moment this ficmix exchange was decided i knew i had to do it! i know when we had our little 2aceshipping & hq convos we talked abt completely diff things so i’m sorry i ran away with this ;-; i hope you like it tho!

  
  
  


“In Seoul?”

Mrs. Nam nods. “Yes,” she replies. 

Heejin worries her lip. “When?” 

“In two weeks.”

A sharp inhale from Hyejoo. “That’s … soon.”

“Very,” Mrs. Nam concurs. Voice the weightiest Heejin’s ever heard her. “The two of you will have to take some of your exams early. _The Spike_ also wants to do a small piece on both of you while you’re there, so get ready for that, too.”

There’s an uneasiness in Mrs. Nam’s eyes Heejin’s never seen before. Doesn’t blame her for it—the volleyball program in Hosudon Girls’ High was barely a blip in anyone’s radar, until this year. Mrs. Nam finds herself suddenly at the end of too many phone calls, at the scrutiny of too bright a spotlight. 

“Understood, _ssaem_ ,” Hyejoo says, before biting on her thumbnail. 

Heejin just nods. 

  
  
  


“I’m really honoured by it, you know.”

Heejin asked to drop honorifics only recently, so Hyejoo’s speech still comes out clunky, unsettled. Doesn’t show on her body, though; hand shoved in her pocket, the seemingly unremovable lollipop idling in her mouth. 

It’s Saturday morning. There wasn’t any way to squeeze all their exams together on weekday afternoons—shoving it inbetween actual school hours and club practice was too much to ask. So here they are, on a weekend, on their way to school to take their English and Social Sciences finals. 

“I don’t show it, but—” Hyejoo shrugs. “Yeah. The invite means a lot to me.”

Heejin doesn’t know where the sudden honesty comes from. She remembers when she first heard of Hyejoo: how she’d taken her middle school to the province quarterfinal despite only having started playing volleyball in her second year. All uncanny sense and innate talent. Remembers when she joined their high school, almost a year ago, now; her first day on the team, blocking nearly every shot their spikers threw at her after only an hour of getting to know how they played. 

Always thought that this was just a way to pass the time, for her. That it wasn’t anything particularly noteworthy. A game. Everything came too easy. 

Heejin scuffs her shoe against the pavement. “It does?” she asks.

“Yeah.” Hyejoo looks straight ahead. Unreadable. “I think volleyball is becoming something special.”

  
  
  


Heejin had to build her game differently. She’s smaller. Lighter. Doesn’t have the sheer power to bruise a defense to break to her will. 

Had to come up with a different way to torture opponent’s efforts. Heejin fell in love with volleyball in second grade after watching the Beijing Olympics; hadn’t stopped since. What she’s had to do: learn how to feint while convincing the blocker she’s going for a down-the-line spike. Timing her jumps to be late for the set and getting it across the way she wants anyway. Outwit. Outsmart. Outplan. 

“A lot of people think we’ll reach the national semifinals.”

Heejin doesn’t know where her own honesty comes from, this time around. Maybe it’s the uptick in their time alone together, a gear up for the camp. Maybe it’s because for the first time, Heejin isn’t the sole power on her school team. Hyejoo is the only other person who understands. A burden mercifully halved—but the glory unfortunately shared. 

Hyejoo unwraps another lollipop and sticks it in her mouth. Leans back on her elbows, on the floor by the scoreboard. “Yeah?” she asks. “People keep track of girls’ high school volleyball?”

“Some.” Heejin grabs one of the balls scattered on the floor. Makes sure she’s far enough behind the endline. Tosses it up, practices her aim, her serve, the strength of her right arm. The beasts in Seoul will be different. She won’t be able to fool them every time. It can’t be all she brings to the table. “What do you think?”

Hyejoo shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe we could even win it all.”

Heejin laughs. Tries a serve again. The aim is off, just a touch to the right. “Ha Sooyoung is a monster,” she tells Hyejoo. “Especially with her new setter. We’ll have to hope someone beats Idarui for us.”

“Please,” Hyejoo replies. “I eat monsters for breakfast.” 

Hyejoo smiles at Heejin, and Heejin is struck with a sudden want to step into Hyejoo’s home, open her kitchen cupboard, and peek inside. 

  
  
  


“Besides,” Hyejoo says; much, much later. They’re tying their shoes by the door. It’s evening—the air heavy, clammy, summer telling them of its impending arrival. “There’s only one spiker in this whole country I can’t block.”

Heejin straightens up. Grips around the strap of her bag. Clenches her jaw. “You worked hard today,” she says. 

Hyejoo tilts her head. “You, too,” she replies, softer. “See you tomorrow.”

Heejin turns around and heads home. 

  
  
  


“These look nice.”

Heejin picks the pair off of Hyejoo’s hands. Weighs them, feels the inside, inspects the sole. She frowns. “Bit too heavy, Hyejoo-yah,” she says. “Try another.”

A player of Hyejoo’s caliber shouldn’t be shopping for shoes in a random Daejeon department store; if anything they should be doing this online—a thorough research, as many models as possible, theirs for the taking. But here they are. 

Yerim had pointed out that Hyejoo’s shoes were old, worn, and—her term— _generic._ That she couldn’t go to Seoul, meeting all the best high school volleyball players from Korea, bearing those on her feet. The team—including their coach—agreed, and told Heejin to help Hyejoo pick out a pair while the school would see if they could subsidize it. They couldn’t afford to wait on delivery times, so they’d gone here instead. 

“I didn’t know shoes could be this important,” Hyejoo mumbles. Heejin thinks there’s a creep of a flush on her cheeks. She shifts her lollipop from one side of her mouth to the other. “Guess there’s a lot more to this than I thought.”

Hyejoo laughs, a sweet, little sound, and Heejin realises that it’s something she wants to hear again. 

Heejin wants a lot from Hyejoo, she thinks. Wants so much from her that she can’t really tell what exactly it is she longs to take. Her height. The strength of her legs. Her near-supernatural ability to determine the flight path of the ball. Her nonchalance after a tough loss. Her serenity in a close game. The cola-flavoured inside of her mouth. The starkness between her teeth and her lower lip. The spaces between her knuckles. Her veins. Her voice. Her calloused fingertips. 

Maybe. Heejin swallows down. “Come on,” she says, fights through the ache in her throat. “We don’t have much time.”

  
  
  


At Seoul Station, there’s a small crowd of college recruiters gathered for them as soon as they pass through the turnstiles. 

Heejin hears Hyejoo let out a small gasp. Remembers how Hyejoo had almost been sick with nerves while they were on the KTX, remembers how Hyejoo tends to take two steps back whenever they have a group huddle. 

She wonders if she could find whichever classmate’s friend’s parent sold their train ticket information for a quick buck. 

The crowd gets more frenzied, people jostling for position, odd potpourri of voices and sounds and calls—so much so that Heejin can’t tell where _Jeon Heejin_ ends and _Son Hyejoo_ begins. 

Heejin circles her fingers around the soft skin of Hyejoo’s wrist, puts her head down, and guides them toward the exit, toward sunlight. 

  
  
  


“You rocketed from being a potential roleplayer to a national caliber talent in just a year and a half,” their interviewer says. “What do you think caused that growth?”

Hyejoo frowns. “Practice?” she squeaks out, small laugh tacked on at the end. Heejin’s had her fair share of interviews—Hyejoo has not. “And the team has been really good to me. They teach me a lot.”

A glance spared toward Heejin before Hyejoo looks back. The piece being done on them a little poignant, a little charming. Two girls who opted to stay at a high school to be close to their families but end up catapulting it to near excellence. A coming-together of pure chance. Liberos and setters from Gangwon to Jeolla all applying, wanting the lack of competition for their position and the high chances of top-level tournament playing time. 

“Of course, I can’t forget my dear sunbae here,” Hyejoo adds. “What good is my defense if we can’t make good on it on the other side of the board? We complement each other, I think. I don’t know what I’d do if she wasn’t on my team.”

Heejin laughs, mumbles a quiet, “Thank you.” Mostly for show. 

They took photos before this. Both of them under bright light. Their jerseys saying _KOREA_ instead of _Hosudon High._ Both of them posing with volleyballs in hand. _The Future_ , their feature’s called. If Heejin closes her eyes hard enough she can believe it’s real. Her and Hyejoo, on the world’s biggest stage. Their already built chemistry another edge to their blade. The harsh thud of a ball on glossy hardwood. The crashing cheers of a crowd. They’d be so much better, by then. Years under them. Maybe Heejin’s learned how to set. Maybe Hyejoo’s developed an attack. An unstoppable force and an immovable object on the same side of the court. Opponents in tears. 

“What about you, Heejin-ssi?” 

Her turn to be asked. 

She turns to face Hyejoo. Takes a deep breath. Puts her hand on Hyejoo’s knee. 

“I feel the same,” Heejin says. Warmth of Hyejoo’s skin under her palm like a promise. “I can’t go anywhere without her.”

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from haikyuu! [twitter](http://twitter.com/mediumcoelis), [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/pisceshorizon) ♡ 


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